


Tony's Farewell

by PStarkRogers



Category: Avengers (Comic), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PStarkRogers/pseuds/PStarkRogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hadn't been just Captain America who had died that day. It had been Steve Rogers, Tony Stark's best friend, his comrade, and his lover. And even though the nation mourned together, Tony Stark had no one left to fall on, to lean on. And sometimes, holding such sorrow can simply became too much to bear, even for the great Tony Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tony's Farewell

**Author's Note:**

> I highly advise you listen to the song "A New Hope" by Broken Iris while reading this fanfiction. It was the song that inspired the story, and it's what I listened to as I wrote it. I think you'll find them a perfect match. Also, the story is based after Captain America's death in Civil War.

_I never thought it could happen._

_Not to you._

 

It was raining. That thick, gray, rain that always seemed to happen on days like this. But it hadn't just been today. It had been raining like this for a week; everyday since the tragedy. It was thick, bone-chilling rain that by-passed the skin and went straight to the blood. It was the kind of rain that no one in their right _mind_ went out in, not if they wanted to avoid getting Pneumonia. 

 

And yet, despite that, someone  _was_ out in it. Someone had chosen this day to go out and visit the tombs of fallen veterans. One veteran in particular.

 

“Steve...” The man gently reached out and touched the giant tomb. His hand was shaking, as was his voice. “Steve...I...I'm sorry...I...” his voice cracked, the sorrow choking him into silence. He raised his eyes to the magnificent stone statue that towered above the tomb. It was ten feet tall and impressively done. The giant circle shield blazed with the star, the determined jaw line, the muscular body that perfectly straddled that line between handsome and beautiful...Everything was perfect, except the eyes.

The eyes lacked the sadness that had always been there, even in the happiest moments. They lacked the deepness, the understanding, the constant sympathy...they lacked the very things that had separated Steve Rogers from Captain America.

 

But maybe that was because they weren't alive.

 

He lowered his eyes back to the tomb, where they fell on the hand carved words:  _'Herein lies Steve Rogers, Captain America. Let us always remember his valor, his courage, and his strength._ _Aeterna memoria.'_ He wondered who had wrote that. He had been here that day. He had helped lift the coffin of the hero into the tomb; he had laid the flag over it. But the event was foggy, covered in the haze of deep sorrow and deeper alcohol. 

His hand slowly drifted up and traced the name in the middle. He traced the S, drifted over the T. It was a name he would never forget; it was as deeply carved into his heart as it was the stone.

“Steve Rogers...Heh, how many people actually called you that, huh?” The laugh was hollow, the voice straining for laughter. “Everybody just called you 'Cap' or 'Captain'. Never 'Steve'. That was a team thing; we were the only ones you let in that deep. Isn't that right, Steve?” His breath hitched and he pressed a hand to his heart. The pain hurt, hurt so much that breathing was a literal challenge. 

“I...I can't go on without you; I don't know how. I always thought that one of us would die; I just never thought that it would be you. I mean,  _fuck_ , I'm the one living off a  _fucking arc-reactor._ I'm the one with enough metal shrapnel in his chest to build a small gun. I'm the raging alcoholic; I'm the one who's unhealthy. So why...” His hand grabbed at the reactor in his chest and squeezed, his breathing labored and strained. “Why...Why was it you? How could it even  _be_ you? You were always so tough, so strong...You kept this team together; you were it's Captain. We needed you—fuck, we  _still_ need you. Even though we're scattered and separated, you're still our Cap. The one who keeps us together, no matter what...That's you.

“Me...I was just a part in the wheel. I did my part, but I was always more of a pain and a hindrance than a help. I fought with everyone in the beginning; you the most. I didn't care about the team, just about myself. I was selfish, immature, crude...But you put up with me, you all did. You tolerated me, and, in time, we all learned to work together. We learned to function together, fight together, and most importantly, live together. I never though that could happen; I mean, who could learn to tolerate Tony Stark? I'm the very definition of immature and narcissistic. Right?”

Tony suddenly dropped to his knees, splashing into a puddle forming at the base of the tomb. The water made no difference to him; he was already soaked through. His breath started to come out in short, puffy, little gasps, visible in the steadily decreasingly cold air. His hand squeezed the reactor even tighter. 

“I thought...I really thought I could convince you. You...You were always so smart, I thought that you would for sure see it my way. I thought...I thought that, if nothing else, our love would convince you. I loved you...I never...I never wanted to fight...I...” short,shallow breaths, “Steve, I...I love you. And...And I...I don't know...I don't think I can do it. I can't...I can't live without you. It just...It hurts too much. Everything hurts, nothing helps. Everyone says to just take time. But...But that's exactly the problem. I can't fix this...I can't repair the dead. It's not like that...”

He lifted his other hand and gently laid a red rose at the edge of the cold stone. “I love you, Steve. And I know what you'd say if you were here. You'd tell me to be strong, to keep living. But you're  _not_ here, and that's part of the problem.” His breathing finally evened out, returning to normal. His hand, however, remained on the arc reactor. “I can't do it Steve. I just can't.” 

He slowly let go of the rose and looked up at the tall statue of his fallen lover. He looked at those eyes, looked into them...And for a moment, just a moment, he thought he could feel them looking back. 

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

There was a twist, a pop, and a gasp as the arc-reactor was twisted and pulled out. He let his hand fall to his side, the glowing reactor suddenly flaring in response. Tony slowly gasped for air, his body desperately fighting for life. He continued to stare into those eyes, the eyes that had always seen through him, even in the beginning. 

Tony suddenly smiled, a smile that lit his eyes for a brief moment. He took a deep gulp of air and, as tears started to pour down his cheeks, whispered to the statue,

 

“Now we can be together again. Maybe...Maybe now we can just be lovers.”

– – – – 

Tony Stark was found the next day by Agent Natasha Romanoff, who had come to say her own goodbyes to Steve Rogers. Tony was found laying on his side, one hand on the rose and the other hand clutching the dimly glowing arc reactor. 

 

He was found with a smile on his face, his eyes closed and his face calm and at peace. 

 

It stopped raining that day.


End file.
